Reasons to Date Courtney Beck

I’ve spent a bit of time lately listening to Dan Savage’s ‘Savage Love’ podcast. The show covers everything from teen pregnancy, to ‘my boyfriend is gay’ to sneezing fetishes. 

Whaaat?! Yes, you heard me correctly. Sneezing fetishes. 

I’m choosing this for today’s topic because the territory is just so… moist.

What is a sneeze fetish?

A sneeze fetish from what I understand is being sexually aroused at the act of or the idea of a sneeze.

The closest I’ve ever come to being aroused by a sneeze is wondering (during a sneezing fit) whether that whole ‘8 sneezes cause an orgasm’ thing is true. In my experience, nothing grand ever happened, but I do believe 8 sneezes to someone with a sneeze fetish could result in an orgasm. It makes sense in theory. 

What’s to love about sneezes?

What sneeze fetishists enjoy most is the uncontrollable release of energy. They enjoy the sound, the sight, the facial expressions, the pauses and the sniffles that come in between sneezes. 

In fact, the thing that turns them on the most is that a sneeze is that complete loss of control that we’d normally save for behind closed doors.

The sneeze fetish community has a message for us:

We should embrace sneezing, because sneezing is sexy. 

I don’t know about you, but I don’t think my sneezes could ever be sexy. I clamp my nose shut, close my eyes and then it’s more like I’m self combusting rather than exploding. In fact, my Dad always used to tell me that one day I’d burst my eardrums with how I sneeze. Perhaps that makes me one of the ‘bad girls’ of the sneezing world. Everyone loves a bad girl, don’t they? Grr.

This is a girl who sneezes with her eyes open. Scary. 

I think I’d be a dream for sneeze fetishists as I literally live on anti-allergy tablets. I’m allergic to everything, dust, flowers, cats, more flowers. Basically, if it’s beautiful or cute, I’m allergic to it. But would that make me attractive to someone with a sneeze fetish? Are there fetishes within a fetish?

Yes. Sneeze fetishists enjoy different types of sneezes. Some enjoy allergic sneezes, others enjoy the sneezes associated with a cold because there’s that whole ‘let me be your nurse’ thing going on.

According to my ‘research’, allergy sufferers are the pick of the bunch because it’s all of the sneezing sexiness and less of the germs. I can understand that. 

If I had a sneeze fetish, I think I’d make my home in Victoria, Australia. Victoria has the most pollen in the entire world, and is the worst place to live if you suffer allergies. I’d apply strategy and creativity to creating the perfect environment for my fetish. I’d host ‘Hay Parties’, or ‘Flower Parties’, and before everyone arrived I’d race around and stir everything up to make sure the irritants were flying for my guests. I don’t think I’d host a mould party though. That would feel a bit wrong. No disrespect to those with mould fetishes of course. 

The good news is if you’re into sneezes they happen all year round. It’s the fetish that is always accessible, especially if you have a dusty home or black pepper in your cupboard. And the seasons bring such beautiful variations to sneezes. You really do have such light and shade. Summer and spring is for allergies, winter is for colds. 

In the scheme of things, there are fetishes that far surpass sneezing. For instance, people who enjoy stomping on electrical items, sexy time with inflatable pool toys, and finally small animals dressed in party clothes. 

In closing, the sneeze fetishists have taught me to embrace my sneezing for all of its uncontrollable glory. I’m going to sneeze like a Queen, or a Victoria’s Secret model, or a Roman guard that’s just come back from battle.

Embrace diversity. Embrace sneezing. You just never know who’s day you’ll make. 

Today’s dating conundrum is:

At what point during a date is it ok put your hand on your date’s leg? 

This is a really tough question, and one that I think even cavemen and women agonised over. Except they would have been sitting on rocks, perhaps around a fire, wearing rocking animal skins and probably having witty banter about hunting and gathering. 

Modern society is no different. For teenagers it’s a movie, and for adults it’s normally dinner or a drink. A drink if you think the person could be shady and you want the option of a quick exit, dinner if you think you’ve scored an absolute babe and are keen to lock it in. 

So, here it is. You’re on your first date, and it’s going quite well. Let’s look at the potential moves prior to the old hand on leg action. 

Firstly, there’s flirty eye contact. You know, some sexy eyes, a little bit bedroomey, but not too far so that they think you have an eye disorder. 

This is followed by what I’m going to call the ‘Thelma & Louise’. This is where you and your body parts make the jump from the edge of the table, to bridge the divide between you. This can be as simple as leaning in, and moving your arms and hands to the middle of the table. It’s open body language, and it’s committed to being there. 

Then there’s the obvious closing of the gap between you, whether you’re on stools and swinging towards each other, or you’re leaning into each other across the table. 

And then the flirty, but not too squinty eyes continue, and the cycle gets you to a more intimate space. 

Please note, this is all if it’s going well. If it’s not going well, stop it you creep!

The next major move is the forearm tap. This is important, because it’s the first touch, generally done in jest. It’s the unlocking of the physical gates. 

If your date is receptive to the forearm tap, you should progress to the hand touch. This is not a hand hold, but an extended touch that says ‘Yes, I’m here and I stayed an extra second so you know I’m interested.’ 

What you need to understand about this whole dating malarkey is that it’s a process. 

To put it bluntly, you can’t go downstairs before you go upstairs. It’s about earning the upper body contact, before you can even think about getting to lower body contact. 

You need to get up before you get down. 

It is only when you have cycled through all of the appropriate flirting stages, that you may place a hand on the knee. I must stress, sometimes to get to that stage you might need to cycle through the process multiple times. 

UNLESS…

He or she busts the knee move first, and then it’s open slather, on like Donkey Kong, in like Flynn, done like a dogs dinner.

Or is it?!

No. Because nothing is ever that simple, or easy. Unless he or she is easy, and then you should definitely use protection. 

As for butt tapping in public, that’s totally a 3rd date move. 

Credit to Steve Sanshwe for the term: Kneetiquette 

There is a trend, that if you don’t have a bed buddy, well you just make one. 

Today I’d like to run you through which craft bed buddies are available, not because I want you to buy one, but because it entertains me to write about it. 

Let’s start with… The Half Man

Buying the ‘half man’ is a lot like buying half a chicken, but not. It’s literally half a man’s chest and an arm. And a business shirt. The business shirt is important because it shows that he’s all business, ALL THE TIME. 

Handy tip: Buy the shirt in your favourite fantasy colour. 

And if one business man isn’t enough for you? Then you go out and buy a freaking harem of business shirt wearing boys for your bed like this lady did. She be the mother of business, the Mother Biz-Ness! 

For those with harem fantasies, this is kind of nice because it’s not illegal. And it’s cheap too because you don’t need to feed them etc. 

The Edward Cullen

If you’re a Twi-hard, you can fulfil your vampish fantasies with an Edward Cullen boyfriend pillow. Just disregard the fact that his arms and legs appear to be wayyy too long. A good way to think about it would be that he was in an epic fight with the Volturi, and instead of him breaking… he stretched instead.

Edward can now be yours for an eternity, and guess what? He’ll never ever age. 

The Dishwasher

If you’re into boobs, there’s this simplistic design. And she washes the dishes for you too, if you help her make the movements. 

The Lady in Red

For men, or women with 80’s nostalgia and Chris DeBurgh fantasies. Sing it with me: 

“The lady in red is dancing (or sitting) with me, cheek to cheek. There’s nobody here, it’s just you and me, it’s where I want to be. But I hardly know this beauty by my side. I’ll never forget, the way you look tonight.”

And last, but not least, there is the knitted pillow. I believe this has come from a deep, dark place within the Etsy community… or from those people who knit sweaters for power poles. 

This was the point that all of this creativity and craft went too far, my brow furrowed, and I thought “This is just freaking weird”. 

And then I saw this picture, and the horror film in my mind starring this guy ensued…

Enter Jason Vorhees of Friday the 13th fame. Do you see the similarity?!

Look - 2 dots for eyes, a nose and a dotted frowning face. Don’t tell me this was a coincidence! 

Can you not imagine the knitted creature running around with a knife, smiling?! Seriously. Imagine waking up to this thing, and the black abyss that are his woollen eyes. 

Dots for for underarm hair is semi realistic, but seriously dude where is your nipplage?! Because those beige humps don’t cut it.

And what about down below? Is he just a grown over piece of jumper?

Creepy to the max. 

I understand that people get lonely, and that they want somebody, or something to hug. I’m just saying, buy one of these…

No I’m not! I’m saying just buy one of these.

I know it’s old school, but sometimes old school isn’t bad. And wouldn’t it be nicer to wake up to a faceless pillow, than a Frankenstein craft number made of wool with black eyes that go on forever, and ever, and ever, and ever… 

Just think about it. 

I just woke up from this dream that I want to tell you about. Please disregard the weirdness/awkwardness of it as it unfolds.

So, there was this girl that I used to work with, and her name was Amanda. She was a babe, small and was quite funny. 

In my dream, Amanda and I were friends and used to hang out. I had no romantic interest in Amanda, and she did not fancy me. However, she did fancy my Mum…

You see, during my dream Amanda fessed up that she was having an affair with my Mum, one of my male friends from work, and quite a few other people in town.

It’s important to note that in my dream, it was a little excessive for Amanda to be dating so many people, but I would have never have called her a ‘Mc Slurry’. 

I did however give Amanda a stern talking to that she couldn’t be dating my Mum and one of my friends at the same time. To which she gave me an epic sob story that she keeps trying to break up with both of them, but to no avail. 

She told me about this time where they all went to the garbage tip together, and Amanda put a rubbish bag with a smiley face on it on her head, and then proceeded to roll around in the rubbish. And even after literally rolling around in filth, they laughed and loved her even more. 

“Amanda”, I said, “being funny is sexy”. 

Then I woke up. After pondering the weirdness of my Mum dating someone that one of my friends from work was also dating, I realised “There’s something in this dream!”. 

Being funny IS sexy. 

We’ve seen it all before. The funny guy with the girl who is sex on legs, the skinny awkward guy that scores the total babe in the movies. Funny always wins! 

The key is, being comfortable with your own kind of funny. Because you can be ‘dark funny’, ‘traditional funny’, ‘weird funny’, ‘dirty funny’, ‘observational funny’ - There’s a million different kinds and combinations of funny, you just need to be comfortable with the type that you are. 

I think that my funny is observational, dark, dirty and a bit weird. I’ve even been called ‘funny creepy’ before. Not because I’m actually creepy (I don’t think), but because I enjoy sneaking up on people, and catching their eye from across the room and doing a blank stare. It’s the same sense of humour that made it funny for me to appear outside the kitchen window at night when I was a kid wearing a monster mask. My Mum did the same.

The thing to remember is, not everyone will find you funny. There’d be people at work who think I’m quite serious and quiet, and others who’ve experienced me at my funniest. 

Your sense of humour is a lot like a finger print. It’s one of a kind, and so are you. So get comfortable with the fact that you are funny in your own way, and hone in on that. 

And if the idea of being funny scares you a bit, think about the size of the earth and how many people are living on our fine planet. There’s bound to be at least a hundred people who think you’re the funniest person alive. Really.

Humour has the power to override the aspects of ourselves that we aren’t happy with. In fact, I think having a good sense of humour makes us better looking. It’s all in the eye of the beholder. 

If you’re single, get comfortable with your own kind of funny. Some dates will find you funny, others will not, and that’s ok. Because in 50 years time, when our looks have faded and tattoos have sagged, being a bit funny and being able to laugh will be your best asset. 

There are Tupperware parties, and then there are ‘Tupperware parties”. 

The former is all about plastic, and the latter… well, there is no plastic in sight.

The Italian and I are on the Tupperware circuit, but not in the way that you’d think. You see, there are people who are obsessed with the benefits that a good set of Tupperware can bring to their pantry, and then there are people who attend sexy Tupperware parties. 

Lo and behold (as the Italian and I found out), ‘Tupperware’ is another way to say Swingers Party. 

I should fess up now that we are worshippers of the plastic, and the only sexy sets we’ll be bringing home are ‘modular’ and ‘square’. 

Anyway, it all started a few weeks ago when we were invited to the Tupperware party of a fabulous couple. Other than these friends of ours being one of the funniest couples we know, we also knew there’d be a delectable range of baked treats. 

We came and we were amazed by the colours and uses of the fantastic plastic. 

We saw an onion chopped within 10 seconds.  

And we conquered. Well, we were conquered when we agreed to have a Tupperware party of our own. I’d liken it to being put under a spell, because I remember having a really good time, eating a few cupcakes and then the next thing we knew we had picked a date. 

Anyway, so after getting over the fact that our reputations may be damaged forever by having a Tupperware party we set out to invite people. 

One of the first invites went out to a friend who the Italian bumped into in the Supermarket. The invite was extended, and our friend replied:

‘Is it a Tupperware party, or a Tupperware party?”

To which the Italian replied: “What do you mean?”

“Well, is it a Tupperware party, or a kinky Tupperware party? You know, a sex party?’

“It’s a Tupperware party, with containers. No kinky business.”

Who knew Tupperware had a sleazy underbelly?! The fact that we used the word ‘sexual’ to describe it to friends probably didn’t help. 

Note: I have a dear friend called Dr Watson who frequently drops the word ‘sexual’ to describe things that she likes. This is also a term that I have adopted and use frequently at the ad agency that I work in. E.g. ‘That’s a sexual presentation you’ve got there!’. Or the latest sexually infused word, ‘Sexecution’. E.g. ‘What a brilliant sexecution!” (a sexual execution of an ad campaign).

What I sometimes forget is that people don’t use the word sexual in the same way that we do. And that to some people, sexual actually means ‘sexual’. 

So when did Tupperware become code for sexy time? Was there too much wine once at a Tupperware party in the 50’s and the association was born?! How fascinating. 

And more to the point, from a practicality point of view: If you decided to throw a sex party, what on earth would possess you to call it a ‘Tupperware party’? I mean, it was hard enough for me to risk my reputation at work asking people to attend, let alone actually expecting people would come.

Tupperware is not sexy, and even if Justin Timberlake was involved, I don’t even think he could bring sexy back on this fantastic plastic. 

Note: If I had sweet photoshop skills I would have put a Tupperware container in there. And unlike this disco-ball, Tupperware wouldn’t break. It has a lifetime guarantee. 

But say if you did decide to use the words ‘Tupperware party’ to invite people to your sex party, how would you define that it’s that type of party? Would you accompany the invite with bedroom eyes, a wink or a nudge-nudge?

Or, living in the technological age that we do, would you create an electronic invite that comes with a sexual soundtrack? This would of course let the music do the talking. 

Perhaps a little bit of ‘Pony’ by Ginuwine?

Imagine creating the guest list. The first question of course being who you’d like to sleep with, followed by whether they’re a swinging couple, followed by the actual invite where you hand over your sexual invitation. 

I think it’d go a little something like this…

“So, if you’re free on the weekend of the 13th, we’re having a ‘Tupperware Party’. Remember to use your fingers to gesture quotation marks around ‘Tupperware party”. Now bust out a little wink.

“If you’re feeling free that weekend, I mean, if you’re free that weekend we’d love you to come? 

Obviously the invitation is the easy part. The hardest part would be deciding whether to serve sweet or savoury. 

I was reading an article this afternoon about someone proactively looking for a partner. 

It reminded me of when I first started my blog and I was looking for love. Generally my blog would elicit one of two responses from people: 

1. I freaking love the idea and wish I had the guts to do it!

2. I can’t believe you are prostituting yourself on the internet! 

So today, I want to talk to you single folk about a little something I like to call ‘Do whatever the hell you want to do!’. 

When you are single, you must understand that people will always have an opinion about how you should handle your lone ranger status.

They’ll either tell you to wait it out and the right one will come along, or if you’re being pro-active about finding a partner they will tell you stop trying so hard. 

To tell you the truth, nothing that they say matters. It’s entirely up to you as to how you handle your singledom. If you want to hang out on a lounge eating grapes, not change a thing and hope that the man or woman of your dreams orders a soy flat white at the same French cafe as what you do… cool. 

Or if you want to jump on a horse and travel the country with a ‘Looking For Love’ sign in one hand shouting your love crusade from your trusty steed, that’s great too. 

The fact of the matter is, whatever you do it’s got to be right for you. You and you only.

It’s your journey, and you’re the Tour Guide. And the bonus of being the Tour Guide is that you get to choose the music you play on the bus, and you also get to choose when to stop for a break. 

Unfortunately though, we don’t ever know when we are going to meet ‘The One’.

If only life came with a bonus crystal ball so that we could check in every now and again, or even better a timer so that we knew in 5 days and 55 minutes time that our wait would be over. 

Life truly holds all the cards, and as much as we all have our own rockstar tour buses, we’re actually on a bigger tour bus run by a business far bigger than Chugg… It’s called, The Universe. 

So, handle your singledom however the hell you want to handle your own singeldom! Because if you’re one tiny speck of dust in this cosmic universe, trying to find another speck of dust… it’ll either just happen, or you’ll make it happen! 

The main thing: Do what’s right for you. 

I wouldn’t say that I’m an aggressive grocery shopper, but I mean business.

I bring a list, I remove items from the list as I pick them up and I move quickly. Basically, I’m like any normal person who has a purpose.

Frequently I’ll encounter people at the Supermarket who amuse/irritate me. For instance, one day I met a lady with a very bad attitude who shopped in her pyjamas, another day a small redhead child who told me my hair was ‘weird’, and today… well, today took it to a whole other level of irritation.

Today on my power shop I encountered a cooing couple who seemed determined to smell and taste every piece of fruit like they were in their own private hotel room.

First I encountered them at the grapes, where they blocked my access as they fed grapes to each other and commented on the taste, whilst nuzzling each other.

People please, you’re in a supermarket! You’re not at a Farmer’s Market or exotic bazaar where you are encouraged to take your time, this is business.

Then again at the banana/melon section I go to grab a bag, and the female deer is my way again as she cups a melon delicately and breathes it in for what feels like an eternity while the buck waits in the wings… no doubt drowning in his own thoughts about cupping melons.

Everywhere I went, there they were! Canoodling their way through the Supermarket like they were Adam and Eve sampling earth’s delights for the very first time!

It was gag worthy. Seriously.

I’m all for romance, but food shopping is food shopping. You can be affectionate to your partner whilst you’re shopping, you know, the occasional stroke on the back etc, but there should never be any cupping of anything.

People don’t want involuntary visions of your after 5 indulgences. It’s like having to watch a porn in a genre that you don’t enjoy, and being forced to do it.

It’s impolite to other people who really just want to get their fucking grapes and bananas and get out of there.

It’s nice to be in love, in fact it is grand! But don’t let your love spill over into the supermarket aisles. Normal people who aren’t floating on a cloud are there to buy food, and frankly you should park your cloud to the left of the aisle so you don’t get in the way.

And to the man who was wandering around with no shirt, your exposed hairy nipples did not help.

I’ll save my thoughts on involuntary exposure to hairy man nipples for another time.

There are some pieces of advice that are not spoken of enough. I’d call it ‘Underground Advice’. In other words, the type of advice that missed out on a chapter in the Book Of Life. 

The piece of advice I’d like to talk to you about today could have been on the page after ‘Never look a gift horse in the mouth’, and the one about turtles and hares. 

The advice I’d like to impart on you today is: 

“Never look someone in the eye whilst eating a banana”

Why? Because no matter how you do it, it’ll be sexual.

I mean it, no matter what setting, at any time of the day… eating a banana and catching someone’s eye means something. 

Bananas, such a fantastic fruit, so colourful and tasty, yet so sexual when eaten in public. 

Why is this? I’m going to blame it on the whole latent mouth thing. Cherries could fall into the same basket, but at least with cherries you can choose how you eat them.

E.g. Cherries can be rolled around and then bitten for maximum effect, or just thrown in and eaten. Sexual and non sexual if required. But bananas, well there’s only one way to tackle a banana and that’s with a wide mouth and a downward bite. 

Being a lesbian, you’d think I could get away with eating a banana guilt free, but it’s just not the case. Apparently bananas are sexual no matter who you are, or how you eat them. 

So, what’s the solution? 

Eating them in the dark alone. 

This is me eating a banana right now. You’d never tell, right?

The less dramatic option is a banana shield, or turning away when you take a bite. 

However, if you’d like to utilise bananas to add to your sexual weaponry, go for your life! I’d suggest small amounts of eye contact, growing to consistent eye contact if you’d like to be quite blunt. 

Although, I’d make sure your target is one you’re definitely keen on because the ol’ banana trick is quite forward and once you’ve begun there is no turning back. 

For day to day banana consumption, I’d also suggest being discreet, because you don’t want to be known as that girl or guy in the office that’ll peel off their gear for just anyone. 

You know how Moses went up into Mt Sinai’s clouds for 40 days and 40 nights, and he came back down with the 10 Commandments written on stone tablets? Well, I believe there’s a third tablet missing. It’s the one that covers all things to do with sexy time. 

It’s called ‘Commandments For Sexy Time’. 

It would have contained things like… 

‘Thou shalt not sleep with animals, because it’s not cool.’

‘Thou shalt not go on work conferences and sleep with McSlurries’ etc etc. 

You catch my drift. 

Anyway, the sexy time commandment I want to talk to you about today is:

‘THOU SHALT NOT RECYCLE THY SEXY SELFIES’. 

Have I lost you? Let me explain. 

You know when you’re in those initial stages of texting, and you begin sending some saucy photos? Well, to put it bluntly those photos have the used by date of a packet of ham.

*I’m talking about real ham, and not SPAM.

A word to the wise: I don’t think SPAM is even a meat. Seriously. But if you’re ever broken into, you could definitely use it as a weapon. 

Literally, you’ve got a few months worth of use out of a sexy photo and no more.  

Sexting is an art form, and you owe it to the person you’re trying to impress to send them new photos that have been created just for them.

Do not recycle the ones that you sent your ex-girlfriend 3 years ago. 

Why? Because nakedness doesn’t lie. 

Exhibit 1: Mitt Romney - There is no way his skin is that taut. 

The obvious inclination is to send a picture of yourself when you were banging, but when it comes to the crunch and you’re standing there in front of them butt naked… chances are you and your photo aren’t going to match.  

Don’t get me wrong, if you’re not in shape you can definitely be arty with filters and shadows, but be honest. It’s the least you can do, especially if they’re going to put out.

There’s also the issue of easily observable bodily changes that must be considered e.g. 

Gotten a new tattoo since you took the photo you plan on sending? 

Acquired boobs in the last 3 years? (This applies to gents too)

Got in a barfight and acquired a new scar? 

This guy. Obviously when you’ve got a Brenda tattoo, you don’t go sexting Sharon… unless you want to walk around naked with your back to the wall for the rest of your life. 

Be honest and truthful about yourself. 

Take the time to create new naked photos for the apple of your eye. 

Don’t post photos you’ve been sent on the interwebs, because you never know who’s in the Mafia and who’s not. 

*I was raised around Italians, so the Mafia is on my radar. 

In closing, if you’ve met a lady or gent that you like and you’re engaging in ‘sexting’ be thoughtful about it. 

Set up a themed background, use some soft lamplight and send them something special. Perhaps even put on a bit of ‘Careless Whisper’ to set the mood. 

*Fur rugs are optional depending on allergies. 

Why oh why did you think that getting ‘Pussy Eater’ tattooed above your top lip was a good idea?

I mean, we all have things that we like to eat… but that doesn’t necessarily mean that we should tattoo it above our lips. 

For instance, sometimes I can think of nothing better than sinking my teeth into a juicy steak, but I wouldn’t get a tattoo that says ‘Steak Eater’.

I also love the sweetness of Fairy Floss, yet I wouldn’t want ‘Floss Eater’ on my lip… because people would probably think that I like to devour used dental floss. 

I guess though with Pussy Eater, there’s only 2 things that it could mean:

1. You very much like pleasuring the ladies in your life… and I presume there are many Mr. Pusstache, you old devil you. 

2. You eat cats (like George Bush)

There are a few questions I’m pondering about Mr. Pusstache’s life choices. Perhaps you’ll be kind enough to help me answer them in our friend’s absence?

Did he just really want a moustache, but thought the hair might take away from his extra-curricular activities and therefore decided a tattoo with an honest statement would be better? 

How did he choose the font? If it was me I would have gone with a soft script, something with real flow. Because that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?!

Do the tears mean he has killed people, or does his hobby sometimes make him cry?

And when he does cry, are they tears of joy, or frustration? 

One more thing… Is the ‘Fuck’ on the top of his head a verbal cue? 

Oh Mr. Pusstache - What’s behind those big ol’ brown eyes of yours we’ll never know. But here’s to you, and your pastimes! I’m sure there’s at least a few ladies out there who hope to find a man with priorities such as yours. 

P.s This is the real Mr. Pusstache.